


night visions

by wakandawinterprincess



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Fluff, I think not, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, but then again, i know right what a shock, is anything?, pre-relationship shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 11:43:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16085444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakandawinterprincess/pseuds/wakandawinterprincess
Summary: "You do realize what time it is, right?"





	night visions

It’s been years since Bucky has rested well.

Something to do with lingering paranoia from his days running from HYDRA operatives, he’s sure. 

Sleeping can be a challenge when one’s worried about someone putting a bullet in your head while you rest, he figures. 

The more, ahem,  _specific_  flashbacks of  _why_  he deserves a bullet in his head — the horrors he’s committed, the people he’s betrayed, the lives he’s ruined, thanks to his tenure as the Winter Soldier — are equally loud in his brain.

He sleeps as well as one with his experiences could expect, and that’s that.

Staying in the palace is even stranger. The mattress feels _too_  soft — he longs for the simple cot he has back in the village. The simple wooden frame and the scratchy ropes have a way of rooting him in the moment, throwing his wandering mind into the present.

But no matter. The royal family has always been far kinder and far more accommodating than he deserves. His issues are his concern, not theirs.

He’s just about to drift off to sleep, however, when he hears a soft, delicate rap on his door.

A visitor? At this hour of night?

Perhaps it’s T’Challa, with some urgent business that requires his attention. There’s been whispers of a new threat on the horizon, a one Anton Pretorius. Nakia’s elusive source on the man may have delivered and gotten a new breakthrough.

Bucky haphazardly throws on a shirt, mind simply  _racing_  with questions, and pulls the door open.

Outside his door is the last person he’d expected to see at this hour of night.

It’s the princess herself. Shuri.

_What?_

“Your highness?” It comes out as more of a question than a statement, as do his next words:

“You do realize what time it is, right?”

She has her Black Panther candidacy ceremony  _tomorrow_ , at the break of dawn. It HAS to be at least 3 in the morning. He may be an insomniac, but he’d never pegged the princess as one.

“I’m sorry!” she squeaks out, looking apologetic and a touch guilty in a way that is simply  _far_  too endearing. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” he assures her. (A lie, but that’s OK.) “What brings you here, your majesty?”

She shifts uncomfortably. Looks down at her feet for a moment in embarrassment, before she meets his eyes again.

“I… I had a nightmare.”

 _Oh_. Suddenly, her standing at his door makes much more sense.

During his recovery, he’d often wake up, screaming and in a cold sweat from his nightmares. Shuri had barged in on his near-nightly panic attacks and helped him calm down, assured him he was safe and hadn’t hurt anyone.

He’d told her his nightmares, then. But she’d never told him hers. Until now.

“You don’t need to stand in the doorway. Come in.”

She walks in, settles herself on his bed like she’s done it a million times before. Her face is now in a frown, and he can tell that she’s still grappling with whatever it is that she saw.

Bucky waits another practiced, measured beat, before he asks —

“What was it about?”

Shuri breathes in deeply. Centers herself. Then, in a low whisper —

“I dreamed of him, again. Killmonger.”

Bucky stiffens at the name. He’d only heard of the man in passing (he’d been in cryo-sleep when the whole thing went down), but Bucky knew what he’d done to the royal family. The way he’d infiltrated the country’s seemingly impenetrable borders, laid waste to their resources, (seemingly) killed T’Challa, and nearly executed the princess in his bloodlust as well. But to hear her mention him again, so long after the fact… he knows it’s not a coincidence. And in that moment, his heart hurts for her.

“What happened?”

She turns away from him, as if gathering herself.

“We were on the waterfall again. He had my brother on his shoulders, boasting about how he was going to kill him. I was begging him not to. But he threw him off the waterfall –  _again_.”

Shuri turns to him now, and he sees the first glimmer of tears welling in her dark eyes.

“I saw my brother die in front of me. That vision is burned into my brain. How can I ever forget it?”

Bucky knows  _exactly_  what it’s like. To see a horrifying memory, played over and over  _ad nauseam_ , in his mind’s eye.

He tries, instead, to bring her attention back to the present.

“T’Challa’s here. He’s  _safe_. And you are, too.”

Another beat, and then it suddenly strikes him…

“That’s not what you’re worried about, is it, Shuri?”

Shuri nods slowly, numbly.  _Crap_.

“Erik is gone, yes. But this Black Panther thing — I don’t know if I have what it takes.” she mumbles.

She meets his gaze again, delicate and trembling, and whispers —

“How can I protect Wakanda if I can’t even protect the people I love?”

Shuri looks so small and defeated then, he wants nothing more than to hold her, even though that would probably cross the bounds of propriety and then some. This brilliant, wonderful girl, who he’s come to care about  _so much_ , is far too young to have such a heavy burden on her heart.

He wishes he could carry some of that burden for her. Wishes he could tell her that it would all be alright. But neither is possible.

Bucky settles for a third option.

“We can only ever do our best, Shuri. But your heart is in the right place. The skills, the training — that will come in time. We all have to start somewhere.”

She’s blinking quickly but focused on his words, and he can see he’s getting through to her. Bucky’s not sure how personal he should get, how much more of his soul he can afford to bare to the princess, but he knows that she’d do it for him. So he takes the leap of faith and speaks his mind for the first time in a long time.

“You fixed a broken man like me, someone you had  _no_  obligation to help, someone who probably didn’t even deserve a second chance at life.”

Which was true. Healing him had been a kindness he had never deserved and would spend the rest of his years grateful for.

“There is no one better equipped for this role than you, Shuri. Your moral compass always points to true North.”

A pause, and then —

“For what it’s worth — I spent years of my life taking orders from people I didn’t know, for a cause I didn’t believe in. I thought I would never do it again.”

“But if  _you_  were the one leading me, I would follow your command in a heartbeat.”

Shuri’s eyes widen slightly as she takes in what he’s said, what he  _means,_ and then suddenly the floodgates burst open and she’s crying, yes, but they’re tears of  _relief_ , and then she’s all but thrown herself at him, tackling him from her side of the bed in a hug that’s equal parts grateful and desperate.

She’s small, so Bucky manages to keep his balance, but just barely. It’s the nature of the hug itself that suddenly has him reeling.

The touch is still new, unfamiliar. He’s never held her like this, and he resists the urge to push her away for normalcy’s sake. A part of his head is screaming that she’s in danger and she shouldn’t be putting herself anywhere near a man with so much blood on his hands, and she’s so delicate and trusting when maybe she shouldn’t be.

The voice is loud. Adamant. Listening is tempting.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he leans into her embrace and holds her tight, tries to ignore a sudden, loud beating of his heart in his chest. She needs his presence now, not the fight-or-flight panic response associated with her simple touch alone. He wants to do his best to be there for her.

She sniffs loudly. It jolts his mind back into the moment.

The princess. In his arms. Comfort. Right.

By now, her sobs have eased down. She just latches onto him, but much more peacefully.

“Thank you.” she murmurs into the crook of his neck.

He relaxes.

“Of course.” he mutters into her hair.

He’d do anything for her. He knows that, now.

Bucky holds her for Bast-knows how much longer. It’s hard to keep track.

Finally, she lets go of him. Smooths her dress and gets up from his bed.

He walks her back over to his door. Again.

Turns to face her, one last time.

“Good night, princess.”

Shuri smiles —  _really_  smiles — and meets his eyes.

“Good night, White Wolf.”

There’s another pause, and then —

Shuri leans up suddenly and quickly kisses his cheek, then blushes furiously and turns around the corner before he’s even had a moment to register what she’s done.

It’s probably better that way, he thinks later, because she doesn’t see the dopey grin that slowly breaks out on his face right after. Doesn’t see how quickly the once-infamous Winter Soldier melts under her touch.

And if she lingers for a bit longer on the other side of the hall, if he flops down onto the mattress and struggles to slow his sudden, racing heart  — well, that’s no one’s business but their own.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment! Those make my day. And, ya know, convince me to keep writing.


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